Shadows of the past
'Prologue' Her silvery coat gleamed, although it was ragged and ungroomed. Her eyes shone with pain of such intensity that he could feel it coursing through his veins, chilling his heart, breaking him inside. Every muscle in his body, every mouse-length of his heart, ached to nuzzle her, to bring back the old light in her eyes. But he stayed away because he had to; because there was no room for love in this harsh, cruel world. "You don't have to come," she mewed softly, not meeting his gaze. He longed to be able to tell her that he had no choice, but they both knew that he could not leave with her. Their paths, ultimately, led to the same place. But there was no way for them to entwine, to join. Closing his eyes, the ragged black tom tore his eyes from the she-cat and let the breeze lick his face, comforting him. There was nothing he loved more than the feel of the wind on his face. This was his home; he couldn't leave. "It wasn't your fault. None of it," he spat, suddenly angry. Letting his eyelid peel open, his vision was flooded with the shining, never-ending stretch of stars that gazed over them both. A moon ago, he would have been entranced by their beauty. But now, all he could think of was how those starry warriors had torn their worlds apart, and decreed that something pure was something unthinkable. "It wasn't anyone's fault. You know that," the beautiful she-cat sighed, pawing a tiny bundle of fur towards him. The raven-black tom glared down at it. "Take him with you. Make him a warrior that the Clans will remember!" there was no mistaking the look of pure, warm love that glowed in her eyes as the mother gazed at her kit for the last time. It opened it's tiny mouth and gave a wail, bewildered by the look of absolute hate in the bigger tom's eyes. The ragged black tom hissed. That love in her eyes should have been for him, not for the kit. "What Clan would be proud of this? It's not even a fully Clan kit. In case you've forgotten, you're a Tribe cat. I'm a Clan cat. Who would take in a kit that isn't even fully Clan?" he demanded. The kit gave a whine, huddling close to his mother. "Times are hard with the Tribe. The ancient legends of the Clans saved us in the past. Every cat knows that the Clans are heroes. I love him too much to let him grow up with the Tribe of the Rushing Water. Take him, please!" she pleaded. The tom glared at the tiny creature with as much hate as he could muster. It was a beautiful little thing, with an amazing black-brown pelt and mysterious green-gray eyes. It meant more to his mate than he did. He'd make sure that it felt ugly and unwanted, to compensate for what he felt now. "I'll take him," he muttered. Relieved, the she-cat lathered her kit with licks. "Mummy? Mummeeeeeeee?" the tiny tom squeaked, fear sparkling in his eyes. "I love you forever, my kit. Even when I'm not there, I'm still thinking of you. I'm sorry for everything. I love you," she whispered, her eyes glistening with tears. With a respectful nod at the ragged black tom before her, she turned to leave. "Come on, Toadkit. Time to get to the Clans." the black tom hissed, hauling his son roughly to his paws. The kit wailed for his mother, calling desperately. She didn't come back. Smudge "...and if you think it's okay to sleep this late, you have another thing coming, because there's no way I'm going to allow it. It's not the first time that this has happened, and I'm not going to accept it..." a toneless, bland chatter drew Smudgefoot from her sleep. The warm Newleaf sun drenched her coat, sending a wave of joy through her. It was finally the end of that harsh, relentless Leafbare. "Sorry, Tawnybird," she mumbled, not disheartened. After her real mother was killed in a battle against ThunderClan, Tawnybird (her mother's sister) had taken over that role. Smudgefoot was more than used to Tawnybird's scoldings; they were part of her life. Pushing past the Clan deputy, she was too drowsy with joy to notice a group of excited kits before she almost tripped over them. "Shouldn't you be in the nursery?" she scolded, although she was really too excited to care about the inquisitive little creatures. They shook their heads happily. "We're going to be apprentices soon. Mother said I could get used to the camp!" a tiny, fluffy gray she-kit explained, her eyes sparkling. Smudgefoot purred loudly. New apprentices always lifted the spirits of the Clan. Today was going to be a good day, no matter what. "Actually, Mother said that we ''could get used to camp, Sparklekit. Don't lie!" a tiny ginger tom nuzzled his sister affectionately. "That's right, Infernokit. You tell her," she murmured quietly, then caught herself. There was no need to be shy in front of kits! Half amused and half annoyed at her own mistake, she padded over to greet a golden tabby tom that had obviously been waiting there for quite a while. His fur was sleekly groomed. Smudgefoot recognised him as Sunpaw, one of the oldest apprentices. They weren't exactly friends, but were always polite to each other. Behind him, an unusual brownish tom was sulking quietly. Nobody was talking to him, as usual. Toadpaw was a miserable little creature, and seemed to be avoiding her altogether. It was a shame; he was very good-looking and an amazing fighter. If only he'd bother talking, she'd certainly consider him as a mate. "Good morning, Smudgefoot. Your pelt looks particularly nice today. Did you groom it?" Sunpaw dipped his head. Smudgefoot felt her face fur flushing hot. "Uh.. um.... well..." she spluttered, avoiding his gaze. Sunpaw didn't seem fazed. He purred good-naturedly, his green eyes seeking her gaze. Embarrassed, Smudgefoot skidded round the tabby tom. She was too angry with herself for messing up her talk with Sunpaw to notice the look of bitterness that Toadpaw was shooting at Sunpaw. Toad He kept his gaze on the ground, ignoring any cat that passed him. A group of she-cats shyly tried to approach him, but he shuffled past them miserably. ''They're trying to make fun of me, he thought bitterly. Because I'm so ugly, and because I wasn't even born to WindClan. '' Every cat thought that Toadpaw was born a rogue, and that Crowflight had generously taken him in to the Clans. But the ragged black tom had told him the real truth. His mother, Water That Glistens At Sunrise, was a Tribe cat. She abandoned him because he was so ugly. Just like a toad. Crowflight, his father, hated him with all his heart, because he was ugly while his mother had been beautiful. It had been Crowflight that gave him his name. Toadpaw. "Hey, get over here!" an angry hiss made him leap like a startled sparrow. Stiff with fright, he followed the voice. Normally, he would have ignored it, but there was no ignoring this cat. "Hey there, Toad-filth. How are you doing?" a pair of amber eyes leered at him. Toadpaw shrank back. "What d'you think?" he muttered sourly. Crowflight purred maliciously, drowsy with delight. "Is that because you're so ugly? That's why nobody likes you. Because you're ugly, ugly, ugly!" with every ''ugly, the skinny black tom struck Toadpaw harshly round the face. Shrinking even further away, he whimpered; "I didn't ask to be ugly," Crowflight gave a ragged, rasped laugh. Unable to bear it any longer, the brown-black scampered away as fast as his paws could manage. To his surprise, the whole of WindClan was already waiting at the camp center, watching Tawnybird speak. "Where were you? You're late," an annoyed voice hissed. Shrugging, Toadpaw made his way to the back of the assembly. "...unfortunately, Jaggedstar has not yet returned from his quest, on which he departed six moons ago. We will be sending a final search party to find him, and if we don't, I'm afraid we'll have to accept that he's not coming back," Tawnybird dipped he head sadly. There were outraged yowls from the Clan. "He's coming back!" "Are you saying he'd desert us?" "You just want to be leader, fool!" "Yeah, you're just like Tigerstar from the ancient legends!" Various cats called in dismay, not bothering to hide their anger. Tawnybird stared straight ahead, ignoring their calls. Toadpaw thanked StarClan that it wasn't him up there, in her place. He'd die if it was. Although there was no point in thanking StarClan, because StarClan hated him. That was why they made him ugly. "That will do. Or do you want StarClan to think that our cats don't have any respect, not even for their deputy? Because a deputy is, inevitably, the future leader, and cats should respect us despite the fact that they may disagree with our descisions. Jaggedstar would have done the same if Drystar hadn't returned from a quest..." the deputy droned. No cat could talk as much as Tawnybird, or as tonelessly. "She's right. Don't you have any respect, you fools?" rasped a skinny gray elder, who Toadpaw didn't recognise. He generally avoided his Clanmates, because if they saw him too much, they'd tease him like Crowflight did. "Sorry," a low voice muttered. A golden tabby tom pushed past him, their pelts brushing as he padded towards the front of the clearing. Shuddering, Toadpaw pulled away. He hated being touched. It reminded him of how Crowflight beat him when they were alone. "Ah, Sunpaw! I almost forgot. It is now time for a happier task. Sunpaw and Poppypaw, I've been speaking to Whitecloud and Weaseltrot, and we have agreed that it is time that you became warriors." Toadpaw's fur bristled. Warriors! The siblings were two and a half moons younger than him! What was more; he had been trained twice as vigorously. Crowflight was cruel and his training was harsh, but the hard training had made him physically stronger. Why wasn't he getting his ceremony now? It was probably because Tawnybird didn't want to see his ugly face in the warriors den. "I, Tawnybird, deputy of WindClan, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I comment them to you as warriors in their turn. Sunpaw and Poppypaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend your Clan, even at the cost of your life?" the tawny-coloured she-cat mewed. The golden tabby tom nodded, his eyes gleaming with pride. His sister, a smaller dark tabby she-cat, sat a little straighter. "I do," Sunpaw mewed confidently. Poppypaw echoed him hastily. "Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior names. Sunpaw, from this moment you will be known as Sunblaze. StarClan honours (A/N: that's the English spelling of what Americans would spell as "honor.") your nobility and graciousness. Poppypaw, from this moment you will be known as Poppypelt. StarClan honours your kindness and speed. We welcome you both as full warriors of WindClan," there was no murmuring about how Tawnybird had carried out a ceremony for leaders. No-one even complained about Sunblaze's name, which was far from traditional. Everyone knew and loved this classic pair of friends, who had won the hearts of the Clan with their politeness and good natures. Delighted for the new warriors, Clan immediately broke into a loud chant. "Sunblaze! Poppypelt!" Toadpaw didn't join in. Why wasn't he a warrior yet? Why was it always him that got the worst deal? Life was too hard. He needed a break. But there was only one thing to get that break. And he needed courage to do it. Smudge "Hi, Smudgefoot. Moorpaw and Dredgefoot are going hunting this morning. Can we go?" a bold voice demanded. Surprised, Smudgefoot looked down to see her apprentice, Graypaw, staring boldly up at her. "Um... I thought I'd take you running today," she stuttered, feeling very much like a rabbit caught in the lights of a Twoleg monster. There was no denying that she was a useless mentor. "Oh, please?" he whined. Smudgefoot shook her head. "Come on; I'll race you to the stream..." she started to run. Graypaw didn't follow. He watched her silently, sulking. "Fine, then. You go with Moorpaw and Dredgefoot. I'm not coming!" she sighed, and picked up her pace. The world became a blur of colour (A/N- English Spelling!) as she pelted from the camp and over the hills. Smudgefoot loved running. Aside from hunting, it was her favourite thing to do. Especially now, when the glorious sunshine flooded the hills. "Argh!" a faint gurgle made her slow down, confused. It was definitely a cat that was calling. She could faintly smell him over the strong scent of grass and... "The river," she breathed, her heart freezing. Was someone drowning? But... she couldn't swim. There was no way that she could save a drowning cat! How could she leap into those freezing waters, fight the overpowering currents, drag a heavy cat from the bottom of the water, and get out alive? But she caught herself quickly. She thought of all her friends. Sweet Browntail, who would die for any cat in trouble. Beautiful Mallowfur, who didn't care what anyone thought of her. Comical Mintpelt, who seemed to do nothing right but purred good-naturedly at her own mistakes. What if it was one of them? Even if it wasn't, no cat deserved to die. She had to help them! In her rush to the river, she tripped headlong several times. Spitting out a mouth of grass, she pulled herself to her paws and carried on running. Tearing through the grass, she was sure that every muscle in her body was on fire. But she was almost there.... "Gargh!" a choked, defeated voice sounded. Faster than ever, Smudgefoot sped up to the river. She had to save the dying cat. She had to. Toad The water dragged his fur down, making him weigh more than a Twoleg monster. Squeezing his eyes shut to keep out the burning sting of the water, he tried to let himself sink. The current tore at him, dragging him along. His lungs were on fire. His head was about to burn to a crisp. He couldn't move, couldn't swim, and couldn’t breathe. The tom forced himself to think of the mother that never wanted him; the father that hated him; the Clan that didn't need him. He thought of how ugly he was, and how StarClan hated him. If he wanted to get away from this world, he had to stay underwater. "Gargh!" he gurgled, frustration flooding through him as he was forced to choke a breath of oxygen. There was something he had to do before he died, or he would never be able to kill himself. And he had to do it now. But there was no way for him to know what it was... Ice-cold water surging all around him, his head was forced harshly from the air. The unpleasant burning sensation returned. He didn't bother closing his eyes, taking in the world for the last time. This wasn't a bad place to die, among the hideous, scaly fish and the unpleasant, clinging mud. It was better than being somewhere beautiful, where he was constantly reminded of his own ugly appearance, and how he didn't belong. The agony was excruitiating as his belly finally sank onto the bed of the river. Finally losing his want for oxygen, Toadpaw slipped into unconsciousness. He was standing in a shining pool. The stars bore down on him, making his pelt glow. Forgetting everything in his moment of peace, Toadpaw allowed his gaze to turn to the water. A hideous creature glared up at him. A familiar ache burned in his belly at the sight of his reflection, the way it always did. "Look at me, Toadpaw," a voice mewed softly. Startled, Toadpaw looked up. The most beautiful she-cat that he had ever seen was gazing up at him, her bright blue eyes wide. Instinctively, Toadpaw shied away. "Don't go. I'm not who you think I am," she took a step closer. "What do you mean? You don't know you I think you are. Or am I so stupid that you can guess my thoughts?" he growled, fur bristling. "Don't I remind you of someone?" There was no denying that she did. Toadpaw had seen a cat like her before. He didn't know the names of most cats in his Clan, but he did know what they looked like. There was another cat like this in the world, somewhere. Toadpaw glared at the she-cat's glossy black pelt, her shining blue eyes, her silky gray paws and her enviable muscles. Where had he seen them before? "You're dead. How am I meant to recognise you?" he growled, noting the glowing stars that lined her fur. This was a StarClan cat. So was he dead, then? "I died long ago, but my kits lived on. They were young when I was killed in a storm. Through them, I have gained much kin, but they have died too. Only one living cat bears my blood now. Do you know who that is?" the black she-cat spoke softly, her tone never growing harsh or threatening. "I don't want to go to StarClan. I'll walk the path of death alone," he hissed. The she-cat's gaze burned so intently into his that he almost apologized. Their eyes locked, and although Toadpaw ached to look away into the starlight night, her eyes held so much authority that he was afraid. "You are not dead, Toadpaw. Not yet. It is not your time to die," satisfied, Toadpaw realized that he hadn't given the responses that she had wanted. Good. StarClan didn't deserve anything from him. "I don't want to live! There's nothing for me in life. All I want is to die. Tell me how I can die!" he begged. "You cannot kill yourself, Toadpaw. That is never, never the answer. There is something in the world that will make your life worth living, but you must keep faith," she mewed padding closer to him. Icy-cold water splashed up his legs. "Faith? I don't care about faith, or StarClan, or your stupid prophecies. I want to go somewhere where I can be alone!" he growled, lashing his tail in frustration. "No, you don't. Think about what you truly desire, Toadpaw. Once you have admitted to yourself what you need more than anything, then you are a step closer to that world you want so badly. Oh, Toadpaw. Do the right thing, won't you? I know you're not a bad cat. Listen, don't go away. Before you die, there is something you must do," '' ''"What is it?" he demanded. but already, the she-cat was fading. Suddenly, he was alone again. Alone in the harsh, cruel world. Smudge "Keep pressing his lungs!" Hobblefoot yowled, rubbing honey onto Toadpaw's skin. Panting, Smudgefoot hammered against the tom's ribcage. It was hard, because he was so frail that she worried that he would break. But she had to, because otherwise he would die. "Tell me what happened again!" Crowflight demanded. A group of solemn WindClan cats stood behind him, shivering even though it was a warm day. Nobody really cared about the tom; he was rude and sulky and never talked. Everyone was worried about. Hobblefoot, the ancient WindClan medicine cat. She was as frail and skinny as a stick, and many cats feared that she had grown too old to carry out her duties. She had taken no apprentice and was nearing her death. The river roared loudly, making Smudgefoot have to yowl to be heard. "I heard him yowl, and ran here quickly. He was in the water, at the riverbed. I managed to drag him out, but I kept having to come up for air. StarClan knows how he managed to hold his breath for that long. He seemed to be in a sort of dream-like state. When I got him out, I thought he was dead. I panicked, and fed him some of these weird green herbs. They made him breath for a bit, but he stopped breathing before Hobblefoot got here..." she explained, still trying to keep his heart beating. "What sort of fool falls into a river? Grumpy old badger, he was. Just like his mentor," muttered Graypaw. Crowflight's fur shot up, his ears flattening. "Go eat a cloud!" he exploded. It wasn't a surprise to hear the old tom use the phrase, but it was strange nonetheless. A tawny-coloured she-cat hurried up to the gathering of cats, her sides heaving. "Moorpaw told me what happened. There's no use in the whole Clan watching. Go on, all of you. Go back to camp. Smudgefoot and Hobblefoot, you stay, of course," Tawnybird panted. The Clan departed quickly, murmuring in distress about their medicine cat. "Keep pressing his heart!" yowled Hobblefoot. "It's no use. His heart isn't beating," Smudgefoot pushed the unmoving body away gravely. Hobblefoot's reputation was rapidly deteriorating, and this death would cause the Clan much anxiety. "I'll have to perform the ceremony, then," Tawnybird mewed gravely. Standing upright, she opened her mouth to speak; "I ask my warrior ancestors to look down on this apprentice. He has learned the warrior code and given up his life in the service of his Clan, though his intentions were unknown. Let StarClan receive him as a warrior. He will be known as Toadheart," she mewed. Smudgefoot growled. "That's a horrible name. Can't he get more of a noble name, seeing as he's dead?" she exclaimed. Tawnybird narrowed her eyes. "What shall I call him, then? Noblespirit? You know, for all we know he could have been trying to kill a Clanmate. There's no telling what he was doing in that river. It's Toadheart or nothing," the deputy meowed. Smudgefoot glanced at the apprentice. He was always so miserable. Maybe a nicer name would cheer him up. "Well, Mudsplash is a good name. Or... Fightheart," she decided, thinking about how much fight must be inside the small tom. He wasn't dead yet, but he should be. Drowning always brought certain death. "Listen to me,Smudgefoot. There's no way that I'll call this young tom Fightheart; it's too heroic and I'm quite sure that we both agree that this tom will die without saving a single life from joining StarClan. If you wish to argue then I advise you march straight up to StarClan and tell them so," Tawnybird growled, obviously distressed by the apprentice's death. The three she-cats watched in silence as the new warrior breathed for the last time. "Wait... he's breathing?" Smudgefoot gasped. She nudged the smaller tom in amazement. He gulped a little fresh air, quivering. "You're... alive." Hobblefoot rasped, dumbfounded. Even the old medicine cat was amazed by his survival. He shouldn't be alive right now. He should be dead. How had he survived? How had he done it? Toad "What are you looking at?" he growled, pulling himself to his paws. "Toadheart, you're alive! Why are you grumbling like an angry fox?" he froze in shock. Before him stood the cat from his dream. Except... it wasn't the cat from his dream. This she-cat was bigger, with a slimmer shape and longer whiskers. And she was alive. "Who's Toadheart?" he mewed suspiciously. "Well, we thought you were dying, so we renamed you Toadheart. Smudgefoot disagreed but I wouldn't let her change it," Tawnybird explained in her usual toneless drawl. "Am I really that ugly?" he began to push away, his fur bristling. Toadheart! What a sickly, strange, ugly name. Ugly, ugly, ugly. What hurt the most was that it implied that not only he was ugly on the outside, but he was ugly inside too. As if they knew what was inside him. Toadheart. It was a million, million times worse than his old name. "Wait." Tawnybird beckoned with her tail for him to come back. The newly named warrior backed away, too engulfed in rage to argue. "Come with me." she mewed mysteriously. Unsure of what to do, he nodded and padded after the cat as she made her way over the grass and up the stream. Toadheart wondered what she was thinking about. "Look, I might be ugly but I'm not the sort that would betray the Clan," he snorted, guessing wildly at her motive. Tawnybird shook her head. "I'm going to hold a Clan meeting, and I want you to come. The Clan's worried about Hobblefoot, and I want them to see that she's still a good healer. After all, even if it was Smudgefoot that saved your life, Hobblefoot wasn't exactly idly watching in the background or anything. Quickly, let's go. I'm going to try and get my nine lives tonight, and if I can't get them, we'll know that Jaggedstar's dead. If I can, I'll send out a search party. I wonder who my deputy choice would be. It's a tough descision. Weaseltrot would do the Clan an honour, yet he doesn't have the same aggression as Crowflight. Crowflight doesn't have the same compassion as Dredgefoot, yet Dredgefoot is growing old. Whitecloud is honourable and compassionate, but he couldn't hunt to save his life! Oh, why am I talking to you about this? It's not as if he's dead..." Tawnybird chattered the whole way back to camp. Toadheart's ears were ringing by the time they arrived at camp. The place was bare; most cats had retreated to their dens to sleep. It was unsettling to hear such quiet, although it was what he liked the most. "Get up onto the Highbranch... no, climbing up won't do any good. The wood's too smooth for that. Can you jump that high? If not, I can help you up," the she-cat mewed. Still fuming, Toadheart nodded his head stiffly. She flicked her tail, gesturing for him to try it. Her eyes were glittering with doubt. Anger boiling up inside him, Toadheart decided that he wouldn't give the deputy the satisfaction of watching him fail. Determined, he tensed his muscles, training his eyes on the slim bark. His claws probably wouldn't be able to grip it, so he'd have to jump higher. Sensing Tawnybird's impatience, he took a daring leap at the wood. Unfortunately, Toadheart had misjudged the distance. His hind paws scrabbled in a frenzy at the wood, while his front paws met only air. A shudder of fear flowing through him, the tom gave a screech as he tumbled headlong onto the hard earth below. A horrific crack was followed by a horrific pain in his front leg. "That was all your fault," he spat furiously, then regretted it a moment later. "Well, I hardly think it was my fault, seeing as I did offer to help you up, and anyhow, I don't see much respect in the way you adress your superiors, young warrior. It's not too late to make you an apprentice, you know." she babbled, and sniffed his injury quickly. "I'm not a medicine cat, as you know, but I'm quite sure you'll recover. Now, are you going to try again, or..." Toadheart jumped at the branch before she could finish speaking. One hind paw dangled over the edge as he landed, but this time he was firmly on the branch. "You'll have to hide in the leaves so the Clan won't be able to see you. Now, then... may all cats old enough to run to the stream and back gather beneath the Highbranch!" Tawnybird's voice shattered the eerie silence. A faint grumbling from the apprentice's den was followed by a tiny wailing from the nursery, which in turn brought a soothing hush that could only have been produced by a queen. "Did that moody old badger die?" Graypaw's voice rang out from the apprentice's den. "Good riddance!" another voice mewed loudly. Toadheart's teeth clenched. He'd love to dig his claws into Graypaw's neck right now. "Wait, I can scent him," Crowflight's growl made him shiver. "Must be his body," "Hurry up!" Tawnybird demanded. Toadheart crouched on the rock awkwardly, wishing with all his heart that he didn't have to hide up here for so long. He hated heights. They were dangerous and forbidding. Smudge "What can she possibly want at this time of night?" she whispered. Browntail shrugged. "Should I wake up Mallowfur?" the pale brown she-cat yawned, gesturing to a sleek young she-cat who lay on the floor. Smudgefoot glanced at her sleeping friend. "No, I will," she replied. As she padded towards the gray she-cat, she was almost knocked down by a pair of young warriors. A tabby she-cat and a golden tom, their pelts pressed together as usual, nodded in respect to their Clanmate. The she-cat, erupted into a small purr, and the tom hushed her quickly. It was Poppypelt and Sunblaze, the two best friends in the world. Smudgefoot felt a twinge of envy when she saw how Sunblaze always kept close to the smaller she-cat. "He likes you," a soft whisper made Smudgefoot leap in fright. She turned to see Mallowfur, who was gazing at her friend knowingly. "I thought you were sleeping!" the black she-cat gasped. Her friend glanced at the floor. "You know me. Any mention of love draws me like water draws RiverClan!" Mallowfur joked, her her eyes didn't match her tone. In those eyes there shone unhappiness, and disappointment, and even a little jealousy. No, that couldn't be right. Mallowfur, the beautiful she-cat that defeated Rockheart? Jealous? Yeah, right. "Look, come on. The whole Clan is waiting... whoops!" Mintpelt mewed, stumbling as she made her way out of the den. Smudgefoot and her two other friends followed her miserably. "... and Hobblefoot saved his life!" her aunt was crowing.The Clan gasped. Smudgefoot watched as the apprentice from earlier emerge from the leaves of the Highbranch. He was staring straight down, miserable and ungrateful. "He's so gaunt, and that gash on his leg is horrible. He's not fit at all! Hobblefoot didn't heal him properly," Mallowfur burst out. Smudgefoot stared at her in shock. "Mallowfur, why are you making trouble?" she gasped. The gray she-cat shrugged. "Surely you can all see how sick he is," her claim was followed by yowls of agreement. "He's on the verge of death!" "Hobblefoot couldn't heal a dying bumble bee." Tawnybird narrowed her eyes. Smudgefoot knew that she detested anyone that didn't agree with her. "I can assure you that he's perfectly alright. I can prove it to you. Toadheart will be leading the final search party to find Jaggedstar, as his first warrior mission. Once he returns successfully, we will all know that Hobblefoot is a timeless healer. Toadheart, you will leave at dawn," there was a cynical murmuring, followed by a deathly silence as her words sunk in. Every cat in the Clan was frozen. Nobody had expected that, and only StarClan knew what Tawnybird's descision would cost her leadership. Smudgefoot and Browntail exchanged an unhappy glance. Toadheart's mouth had clenched shut, and his eyes glittered with annoynace. "I'm going alone, right?" he demanded. "You'll take two cats with you. One that can fight, and one that can hunt. I have already chosen one cat to go with him," the cats of the Clan murmured uneasily. "A worthy deputy is needed for this Clan. I will appoint myself as leader while the searchers are away, and my deputy will go on the search to prove himself worthy. I will send the most likely choice on the search, and if he is unsuccessful, the second choice will take his place," the Clan was in uproar at this. Tawnybird was doing this all wrong! It was no secret that her leadership was widely frowned upon, but now she'd given the Clan enough reason for an uprisal. The only cats that didn't seem unhappy were Weaseltrot, Whitecloud and Crowflight; the three most obvious deputy choices. Being the most arrogant, Crowflight was the first to push his way to the front of the gathering. A ginger shape followed his lead. Smudgefoot only had to see his unusual white markings to recognise the cat as Weaseltrot. Whitecloud hung around the back, but his eyes glittered with hope. Smudgefoot knew that she'd never be chosen, especially since she was the youngest warrior (with the exception of Poppypelt and Sunblaze). But she couldn't help but hope. "I say these words before StarClan, and may they hear and approve of my choice," cries of various names filled the clearing, each suggesting a good deputy. WindClan needed a strong deputy. Tawnybird needed to choose wisely. "Dredgefoot will be the new deputy," the Clan barely had time to voice their opinions, when the ragged old tom stepped forward. "It's truly an honour to be chosen, Tawnybird. I'd give my tail to serve WindClan, and I've already given my heart. But it's no secret that I'm growing old. WindClan is in need of a strong deputy, and my days are numbered. I meant to tell you of this in private, but the Clan has a right to know why I'm refusing. My heart is failing, and I have little time left to live. Not even half a moon. Hobblefoot predicted seven sunrises," cries of grief pierced the silence after Dredgefoot's speech. A tabby she-cat pelted up to him, and lathered him with licks like a newborn kit. "Don't leave me, Dredgefoot! You promised you wouldn't leave me, all those moons ago," her screeching was heartbreaking. Smudgefoot knew that Rushfoot had been in love with her mate since the day they were apprenticed, and they'd never been apart a day since. A tiny figure lurked at the old she-cat's feet, giving a tiny wailing sound. "Daddy, are you going away?" the kit whimpered sleepily. Tawnybird flicked her tail impatiently. "There's time for this later. For now, the new deputy will be Crowflight!" nobody was listening. Smudgefoot was only able to spare Toadheart a glance. His eyes were flooded with horror, his body stiff with fright. "I might have to go away soon, Flowerkit, but daddy's always going to love you. Always," the old tom murmured, nosing his daughter gently. "There's another time for this!" Tawnybird snapped, waving her tail impatiently. Smudgefoot watched as Rushfoot dragged her squealing kit away into the nursery. Crowflight stepped forward. "I'm honoured to be chosen for this noble duty, Tawnybird. I will serve the Clan the best I can. When will we set off?" he demanded. The leader shot him a relieved glance. "Tomorrow, at sunrise. Who else would you like to take?" Tawnybird dipped her head to the ragged black tom. Smudgefoot watched as he scanned the clearing. His gaze swept over her once, but it then turned to Mallowfur. Disappointment scorched her. She had always wanted to be a hero. "That black cat with gray paws is a good hunter. We'll need her," Smudgefoot let out a yowl of shock. Everything was happening fast. Way too fast. But this turn of events had been a good one. She was finally going to be a legend! Toad "Not her!" he screeched. The Clan stared at him in shock, although they'd been shocked enough that night. Smudgefoot glanced down at her paws, looking crushed. Of course, she was annoyed because she couldn't bear to go on a journey with him and his stupid, stupid father. Tawnybird's eyes narrowed. His heart fiery with rage, he spat viciously right into her left eye. The leader howled and pawed at where the liquid had shot her. Crowflight yowled something at him, but his ears were ringing and he couldn't hear what it was. "You all hate me!" he snarled. Nobody argued because it was true. "But... he's the Clan hero! He survived death. Why does he care if we like him or not?" Hobblefoot complained in a kit-like tone. "I don't. Look, let's go now," Toadheart calmed himself down. Why had he made everyone stare at his ugly face? Why had he done it? The black she-cat was just another pretty face in the crowd. True, she had saved him. But that had only been out of pity. It wasn't as if she actually wanted to talk to him. They wouldn't have to communicate at all during their quest. Why did it matter who he took? Then the shock finally sunk in. Toadheart's heart plummeted, and his body began to quiver like a kit's. His stomach felt a little queasy. He had remembered what was happening. He was going to be hurt badly on this quest. He was going with his father, who would humiliate and beat and muliate and kill him as soon as they were alone. Crowflight hated every hair on his pelt. Why had any she-cat ever loved that heartless piece of crowfood? Toadheart suddenly realized why his life was hard. He shouldn't have lived. No she-cat should have ever loved the ragged black tom, and their kit shouldn't have lived. Maybe Crowflight would kill him on this journey, and it would all be over. Perhaps this wasn't as bad as he thought it was. "I haven't said goodbye to the Clan," Smudgefoot's eyes drifted to a golden tabby tom. Toadheart hissed. "We'll be back and not a day later than we must," he strode past the tom, pushing him roughly. Crowflight followed him, giving an arrogant cry. Smudgefoot dragged herself slowly through the crowd. Toadheart waited until they were out of the camp, and he started to run. Smudge Her silver-gray paws thudded against the soft earth. Grass tickled her pelt, flooding her nostrils with a thick scent. The sun bore down on her back relentlessley, warming her fur and scorching the sensitive spots behind her ears. A little ahead of her, a pair of toms were running effortlessley. The smaller one, a brown-black warrior, kept a little behind his mentor. His green-gray eyes glittered with anxiety. Smudgefoot wondered why. Her heart was as heavy as her paws as she sped onwards. The excitement of being a hero had vaporised the moment they left the camp. Toadheart didn't want her to come, and he had showed it. He would be a grumpy old badger for the whole journey, and Crowflight would be a sarcastic furball to match him. How would she bear the company of these stupid, stupid toms? "Stop," the oldest of the three skidded to a halt. Toadheart obeyed him immediately. Smudgefoot slowed down as she padded up to where they had stopped. They were standing at the peak of a particularly high hill, with water gushing below them. "Where are we?" she whispered. Despite being a warrior, she didn't recognise this place. "Haven't you ever been this far up the Moonpool stream?" Toadheart demanded. The black she-cat shook her head, taking in her surroundings. "That can't be the same stream," she snapped. The tom glared bitterly at her. "Can't you see that it is? It just thins out down by our territory. This is our territory, but everyone knows that you're only meant to come here on the way to the Moonstone. I thought you were a warrior," he accused. Smudgefoot flattened her ears. "Shut your mouth, you miserable piece of fox dung. Show some respect to a warrior worth three of you. Go eat a cloud," Crowflight growled. Shocked out of her anger, Smudgefoot noticed a terrifying emotion in the tom's eyes. Hate. "Where are we going next?" she coughed politely. The tom's anger was still blazing in the air, but she didn't mention it. "He said he was going to find a place that WindClan would live in peace, without being attacked by enemies. The first search party said that his scent led up to the top of this hill. Where would you go from here if you wanted peace?" Crowflight's tone was icy cold, like water in Leafbare. Smudgefoot scanned the area. Across the stream was ThunderClan territory, so they couldn't go that way. No cat knew what was to their right, but she guessed what they'd find Twoleg nests that way. Jaggedstar was old but he wasn't stupid; he'd know better than to go there. So where was safe to go? "The Moonpool," Toadheart and Smudgefoot realized in unison. They would have every right to cross into ThunderClan territory if they were going to the Moonpool, and Jaggedstar had always had a special connection with StarClan. "Precisely. So we'll head that way. Stay alert, because if we're caught crossing onto ThunderClan territory, I'm fine with watching either of you die. And if I die for you, Toadheart, I'll haunt you till you beg for death," Smudgefoot couldn't bear hearing any cat being spoken to like that. Was this really the noble Clan deputy of WindClan? Toad "Go," the three cats raced down the hill steadily. Toadheart remembered a trick that Crowflight always used for running down hills, and began to skid from side to side to prevent himself from tumbling head first down the slope and into the water below. Crowflight was, as ever, a little ahead of him as they made their way quickly down the grass. He was dimly aware of the she-cat, who was watching in horror from the top of the hill "Come on!" he snarled. He didn't care if she was left behind, but it would be hard to journey alone with his ex-mentor. "Stop!" a pair of teeth sunk into the back of his neck as he reached the base of the hill. He tumbled over anyway. Crowflight, who had presumably been trying to "save" him, toppled from his paws. The pair of toms landed in a heap, a fox-length from the rushing water. He was dimly aware of a black shape shooting past them both. "Awgh!" a strangled cry came from behind them. His heart froze. Crowflight hissed. They both knew what had happened, but Toadheart still dreaded seeing it. Reluctant, he glanced at the stream. As always, it was gushing in a never-ending silver flow. A dark shape clung to the bank, wailing in fright. "Hold on," he instructed the she-cat, his heart racing. If she died on his mission, he'd never be able to face the Clan again. He'd die painfully, with the whole Clan hating his ugly face more than ever. She was not allowed to die, it was as simple as that. Toadheart made his way right to the edge of the grass. The sun had already dipped below the treetops of foreign territory, making it impossible to tell how long the she-cat had left before the current dragged her away. "Water!" Smudgefoot struggled to stay over the surface. The brown-black tom snapped at her to stay quiet, and fastened his teeth round her scruff. With one tug, he managed to heave the she-cat from the water. She landed sprawled on the ground, gasping for breath. "What were you thinking?" he spat. "S...sorry!" she spluttered. Crowflight didn't say anything. He watched them both in silence. "If you'd died, the Clan would never take me back. Stupid furball!" he spat, glowering at the drenched she-cat. She hissed, dragging herself to her paws. "You owed me that," she growled. Toadheart sneered. Who was she ''to talk about debts? There were so many unpaid debts in his world. His mother owed him the love all mothers gave their kits. His Clan owed him respect. StarClan owed him a pretty face. Crowflight deserved to die. None of those things had happened. How could ''she complain about being owed? "Come on. I want to get to the Moonpool by sunrise," Crowflight interupted sharply. Growling, Toadheart followed his father, and the three cats padded in silence among the hills. Smudge Her paws were aching by the time they reached the Moonpool, but they managed it. Her heart was heavy. She'd almost died, and who cared? No-one. Instead, she'd been expected to drag herself along the hills like nothing had happened. What was more, she was stuck with the two nastiest toms in WindClan. Toadheart was good-looking, there was no doubt about that. But he was as bitter as a travelling herb. "Do you want to talk to StarClan?" Crowflight sneered. Smudgefoot realized with a jolt that he was being sarcastic. Sarcastic, about seeing their warrior ancestors? It was a privelege reserved for only those who rose in rank. "Wait, shouldn't you visit StarClan? After all, you are the new deputy," she mewed. Her words were greeted by an amused glare. "StarClan never made me deputy. My own skills did," he grunted, and settled down on a rough patch of rock to sleep. Smudgefoot hissed. "That's against the warrior code!" Crowflight didn't move. Toadheart shot her a disgusted glare. "No, it's not. Tawnybird never went to the Moonstone," he spoke as if it was obvious, although Smudgefoot wasn't sure how he had remembered. Tawnybird had been made deputy when he was a tiny kit and Smudgefoot had just been apprenticed. A mixture of admiration and annoyance boiled up inside her, but she swallowed it quickly. "Hurry up and get to sleep," Crowflight snarled. Sighing, Smudgefoot gazed at the silvery water. Her mother was somewhere above them, gazing down from the sky in peace. If only she could quickly visit StarClan to say goodbye, like she'd always longed to do. "No!" Toadheart growled, reading the expression in her eyes. Reluctant, Smudgefoot backed away. She knew that it probably wouldn't work, anyway. As she wondered what to do, she was suddenly aware of Toadheart staring at her. A fluttery feeling started up in her heart, followed by a pang of confusion. Where had that come from? "I may as well sleep," she settled down, too tired to argue with either cat. Her eyes shut almost instantly, and she was dimly aware of Toadheart settling down to sleep a few fox-lengths away from her. The world lurched dangerously as darkness swallowed her and everything dissolved into nothingness. She was standing on a hill beside a rushing stream. But this was no ordinary hill, nor was the stream an ordinary stream. This was unfamiliar territory. A shudder trickled down her spine as she realized what she was - an intruder. "Do not be afraid, my darling," a soft, musical voice murmured from behind her. Wary, the she-cat spun round. And gasped. "Mother!" it was not her voice that spoke, but that of a kit's. A sweet, inviting scent washed over her, and Smudgefoot was taken back to memories of snuggling against a beloved protector; her loving mother. "Do not fear me, my kit. Yet do not trust me, either," the sweet, inviting voice unexpectedly grew harsh and cold. Smudgefoot, who had been lost in her mother's warm amber gaze, took a step back. "What is it? Help me, Mother. Tell me the way," she whispered, feeling trapped under the cold amber glare that had previously been so loving and warm. "Times are hard, Smudgefoot," the she-cat sighed, and Smudgefoot was suddenly sure she saw a flash of motherly kindness take over the cold mask of anger. Both amazed and frightened, she moved a litle closer to her kin. A blinding pain seared across her right ear. Reeling in shock, Smudgefoot realized that her mother had delivered a crushing blow against her head. "Why? Why?" she whined, feeling very much like the kit she had been when her mother died. "Don't trust anyone, Smudgefoot. Don't let anyone let you feel safe. Because they'll strike back at you, and you'll be hurt. Let this be a lesson to you. It was a lesson I learned with your father," the smoky black she-cat sighed. "My father? Grassheart? What do you mean?" she yowled. But there was no answer but the whispering wind. "I still love you, my kit. You're always in my heart. Remember that," her mother gave her a quick lick. Smudgefoot stared at her, hurt beyond speech. Why had her mother hit her? What had her father done? She could only wonder, as the hill dissolved into tiny pieces and reality demanded it's return to her world. Toad "Stop yowling!" he hissed. The she-cat gave a strangled cry, writhing like she was battling an opponent. "Mother, come back," she mumbled, her eyes opening slowly, like a kit opening her eyes for the first time. Toadheart couldn't help but let out a furious, wordless snarl. She'd lost her mother, had she? At least her mother had cared about her! "We'd better go," the black she-cat leapt to her paws, brushing herself off. Toadheart noticed with a jolt that Crowflight wasn't there. His scent was stale, and faded pawprints showed that he'd carried on the journey alone. "You're right," he admitted, and followed the tracks in silence. Smudgefoot padded a little way behind him. Toadheart's first instinct was to race away, but he stopped himself in time. No mater how much he hated talking to cats, he'd learned the hard way that there was no avoiding anyone on his journey. If he kept away too long, she'd end up falling into a river or down a gorge. "What's wrong?" Smugdefoot meowed quietly. Toadheart didn't look back. "Nothing. Why do you care?" he hissed. Smudgefoot moved a bit closer, causing the brownish-black tom to flinch. What did she want? "Something's wrong, Toadheart. Are you worried about Crowflight? He wouldn't leave us, you know. He's grumpy enough, sure, but he'll turn up," her words were soft and pitiful, like a medicine cat talking to a frightened kit. He wasn't a kit; he was tough. He'd borne pain for long enough now; the she-cat didn't have a right to pity him! "Go away, you clueless furball. Why would I worry about Crowflight?" he whirled around. Smudgefoot glanced at the floor unhappily. "He was your mentor. Or don't you care about anyone?" she challenged. Toadheart felt his heart begin to burn with rage. In his flurry of anger, he barely noticed a tooth-sharp claw slash against Smudgefoot's face. Blood trickled to the floor rapidly. His upper lip curled back in a snarl, it took a minute to realize that it had been him that had clawed Smudgefoot. "Toadheart," a cool, calm voice drawled. Toadheart's head snapped up. A ragged black tom was watching him intently. "Crowflight," "Come with me. I need to talk to you," the tom growled. Guilt pounding in his heart, Toadheart padded up to his father without glancing at Smudgefoot. In his head, he silently willed her not to tell Crowflight what he had done. Smudge Warm, thick blood oozed from the cut on her face. It hurt, but not as much as the ache inside her. Toadheart had attacked her. On purpose. "I hate him," she breathed, but suddenly she wasn't so sure. Toadheart had saved her life, and she had saved his. They were on a journey to nowhere together. Deep inside, there was a bond that would never break. She'd only been trying to help! Toadheart was obviously bothered by something, and she'd wanted to know. It wasn't as if she was a stranger to pain. And her mother's visit had shocked her beyond repair. The message was clear; she was not to trust anyone. Nobody. And she had been right; Toadheart had attacked her against her assumptions and hopes. For the second time in her life, Smudgefoot felt an emotion that she'd always dreaded. Despair. "When will they be back?" she wondered out loud, and decided that she didnt care. The journey had turned from a quest to finding Jaggedstar to a path of misery. If only she hadn't been chosen; then she'd be back in the Clan with Mallowfur and Sunblaze and Browntail and all the others. Dredgefoot was probably dead already. "Listen!" Smudgefoot turned around slowly, taking in her surroundings for the first time. She was still in a field, with grass up to her neck. It was impossible to see who had spoken. "Who's that?" she whispered, fear crawling down her spine. A long, agitating silence followed. "Ow!" a small, brownish-black shape shot out from the grass and bowled her over. Surprised, Smudgefoot landed on her back, with a small shape pressing down on her shoulders. A wave of misery flooded through her. Toadheart was going to kill her! "I'm not going to kill you; not yet, anyhow. But listen," (TBC)